What We Choose to Remember — and Forget — in the Fight for Justice
I was 11 years old when the Menendez brothers were initially charged with their parents’ 1989 murders.
We lived across from the tennis courts of Queen Anne Park and around the corner from Queen Anne Elementary School. At 11, my routine was simple: school ended at 2:35 p.m., and I was expected home to complete chores before my parents returned from work between 5:30 and 8 p.m.
Pre-gentrification Mid-City was sharply divided. South of Pico was “the hood.” Between Olympic and Wilshire was middle class. North of Wilshire? The wealthy. My working-class family, with middle-class aspirations, lived between Pico and Olympic.
For much of my childhood, I was not allowed to go to Queen Anne because of the presence of gangs, and there were plenty of stories of gang members pressing youngsters to join their ranks, deal drugs, and wind up dead, often in that order. The trouble was, even these and other precautions my father took weren’t guarantees I would escape shootings and gang violence.
My mom worked in retail, and my dad ran a lawn care business. He saw firsthand how the crack epidemic and gang violence shaped South LA. As an only child for most of my upbringing, household responsibilities, except cooking, fell on me. I had to finish chores and homework before I could shoot hoops at the local courts, and summer break meant joining my dad in cutting lawns, pulling weeds, and trimming hedges. My father reinforced discipline, structure, and respect for authority, backed by the child-rearing maxim, “Spare the rod, spoil the child.” I didn’t come from a household that believed in “timeouts” or letting a child throw tantrums in public places without a stern look that was more a promise than a threat of violence on the return home.
So when Erik and Lyle Menendez were accused of murdering their wealthy parents in Beverly Hills, many in my community saw the Menendez boys as the result of lax parenting that didn’t reinforce respect for authority. The community also believed those boys would avoid consequences because of their wealth and whiteness. That belief seemed affirmed after the first trial ended in a hung jury. Then the ink on the details of how the Menendez brothers spent their inheritance flowed.
This double murder occurred against a backdrop of villainization of Black children by the police, mainstream media, and, to a degree, even our own community, as the narrative of Black crack babies growing up to become super-criminals without conscience and empathy struck fear among Angelenos at the time.
The 1990s saw harsh policies like mandatory minimums for drug offenses, the 100:1 crack vs. powder cocaine disparity, “truth-in-sentencing,” and the three-strikes law. These laws devastated Black and brown communities. Prisons were built rapidly, police were militarized, and minor offenses received major sentences.
Violent crime peaked in 1992. Los Angeles recorded 88,919 violent crimes — a rate of 2,491 per 100,000 residents. By contrast, 2023 saw 27,988 violent crimes in a city of 4 million, at 700 per 100,000. Yet we are still asked to relitigate justice through the lens of fear.
The Menendez brothers were convicted in a second trial in 1995. Now, almost 30 years later, District Attorney Nathan Hochman is opposing the brothers’ potential resentencing, and Justice for Murdered Children founder LaWanda Hawkins and Najee Ali are echoing his demagoguery by saying that resentencing would open the door to more successful habeas corpus petitions from convicted murderers.
But habeas corpus isn’t casually granted. It requires the petitioner to be in custody, to have exhausted all appeals, and to prove a serious constitutional error, like ineffective counsel, prosecutorial misconduct, or new evidence of innocence. The Menendez brothers exhausted all options by 2003. Their recent request came after new allegations surfaced.
In 2023, former Menudo band member Roy Rosselló alleged that José Menendez, the father, raped him when he was 14. This came to light in the Peacock docuseries Menendez + Menudo: Boys Betrayed. A Today Show preview aired weeks earlier. The brothers’ current appeal cites a letter Erik allegedly wrote in 1988 to his cousin, Andy Cano, detailing abuse. Journalist Robert Rand, author of The Menendez Murders, says he found the letter in 2018.
Last October, then-District Attorney George Gascón recommended resentencing after a three-week review. He acknowledged the abuse but noted the killings were premeditated. His reasoning included the brothers’ long prison terms and clean records behind bars.
Resentencing was scheduled for Dec. 11, 2024, but was delayed by procedural issues and wildfires. Newly elected DA Nathan Hochman, endorsed by LaWanda Hawkins, reversed Gascón’s stance, filing to oppose the petition. Hochman called the abuse claims “self-serving lies” and dismissed the letter to Cano as lacking credibility because it wasn’t used in the original defense.
These allegations, however, were central to both trials. The issue? There was no evidence deemed credible enough to be heard at the orginal trial.
I received Ali’s text announcement the day before the press conference. It didn’t bother me that he or Hawkins opposed the resentencing. What bothered me was their stance that the brothers should not be allowed to appeal based on new corroborating evidence.
In the press invitation, Ali quoted Hawkins:
“Our organization, composed of homicide victims’ surviving family members, is outraged that the Menendez brothers are even being considered by a judge for possible resentencing. The Menendez brothers had their day in court. In fact, they had two trials. The jury verdict found them both guilty of the cold-blooded execution of their parents.”
He continued: “The judge sentenced them to life in prison. If they are granted a resentencing hearing … we should all respect the original decision and never allow convicted murderers to use their fame and money to manipulate the courts decades later.”
This same script opened the press conference the following morning.
Hawkins had also supported Rick Caruso for mayor and Hochman for DA. Her political motives may be strategic or personal, but she owns them.
I showed up to the 11 a.m. press conference planning to direct tough questions at Hochman. But when I realized that Ali and Hawkins organized this independently, without prompting from Hochman, I was stunned.
I’ve known Najee Ali for more than 25 years. He became close to Black Panther Party icon Geronimo Ji-Jaga Pratt, whom he calls a mentor and big brother. That’s when I first met Ali, while following Pratt’s fight for a new trial. Convicted of a 1968 murder, Pratt insisted he was 350 miles away. His case involved years of habeas filings before his conviction was overturned after nearly 27 years.
I was a 20-year-old editor at UCLA’s Black student publication, Nommo Magazine. Back then, I was skeptical of anyone claiming activist credentials — Ali included. I had a whole lot of information, but no lived experience to understand how the world worked. If not for my experiences with student organizers who hovered around the Community Programs Office and my experiences volunteering with the African Education Project in public housing in South Los Angeles in the late 1990s, I would not have understood that the fight against systemic injustice has no days off, and doesn’t come with a paycheck, health benefits, a pension nor a 401(k) plan. Choosing to fight the good fight doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll be personally rewarded for your efforts.
When I finally interviewed Ali for Nommo and made him our cover story, it began a journey of observation. I watched him — a former convict shaped by Malcolm X — become a voice for people who felt unheard by City Hall and the Los Angeles Police Department.
What was dangerous, and not just problematic about that April 16 press conference, is that their rhetoric against the Menendez brothers can just as easily be aimed at darker, poorer and more disenfranchised people, like Cyntoyia Brown, who was released six years after serving 15 years in prison for killing Johnny Allen, a 43-year-old man who had paid her for sex. Brown stated she acted in self-defense, fearing for her life during their encounter. Despite her claims, she was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison at the age of 16. She was only released because the Tennessee governor granted her clemency.
In cases like Brown’s or Pratt’s, would Ali argue that they should serve their full sentences, too? I think not.
Hochman campaigned on restoring public safety and rejecting progressive reforms enacted by Gascón. He claimed to be a centrist who believed in “accountability with fairness.” But his actions say otherwise. Crime rates have been declining since 2023, yet Hochman calls for restoring a two-tiered system of justice that punishes the poor and privileges the wealthy. If Ali were willing to pull back the curtain to reveal the Wizard of Oz, he’d see the same behind the push to deny the convicted access to the appeals process.
Najee Ali should know better. And choose better. It’s wild to me that an ex-felon would deny other felons due process. We’re already finding out what that’s like with the guy currently occupying the Oval Office.